


Spin Me Round Again

by jillothewisp (abbykate)



Series: Hide and Seek [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Oh I do love weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbykate/pseuds/jillothewisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a quiet affair. Secretive, almost; the newspapers would have been all over it otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin Me Round Again

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the scheme: Jill decided that she, abbykate, and S.J. Hartsfield should all take lines from Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek" and use them as titles for drabbles. They each picked five. They will be posted as a series, in the order in which they fall in the song.

It was a quiet affair. Secretive, almost; the newspapers would have been all over it otherwise. The only thing people love more than a rumor is when that rumor comes true.

So it was in through a back door at the courthouse, quick exchange (‘Do you? Do you? Congrats, you’re hitched!’) and out through an entirely separate back door. No time for a kiss. Car waiting.

They would dearly have loved to go home then, but a certain elder brother (‘Technically, you’re related to him too, now.’ ‘Only by law.’ ‘Yes, well. The point is, I’m no longer the only one who has to suffer.’) had insisted on throwing them a proper reception.

The rooftop terrace was a bit grandiose (‘Just be glad he didn’t open the manor.’) but quite tasteful. They agreed they wouldn’t stay long. Unfortunately, between obligatory mingling with distant relations (‘How are these people still  _alive_!?’) voluntary mingling with their few friends (‘How much champagne has Mrs. Hudson had?’ ‘Um –  _enough_ , I'd say.’ ‘Greg and Molly are here together, it seems.’ ‘Wait- _together_ together?’ ‘Mm.’ ‘. . . Aw.’) speeches (‘Ugh. I’m going to be ill.’ ‘Stop that; it was very nice.’) and trying to keep the aforementioned elder brother from absconding with the cake, _not long_ stretched into several hours.

Things began to wind down, finally, and they saw an out. They were halfway across the floor when the first decent song of the evening (‘Worst. DJ. Ever.’) played. They paused, and he took the opportunity, snaking an arm around his waist, grabbing his hand ('What-' 'I believe it's customary at weddings, the first dance?' 'You don't dance!' 'When have I ever said that?'). They moved gracefully enough around the floor, the music ( _If you were on my mind all night and day/Blame it on my youth/If I forgot to eat and sleep and pray/Blame it on my youth_ _)_ echoing in the hush of the dwindling crowd. He felt daring (read: obnoxious), so he led him into a spin ('Right, you're officially never allowed to do that again.' 'What? This?' 'Ack – Yes, that! No spinning me!' 'You're laughing.' 'You're a bastard.' 'I love you.') The song ended, and he was pulled down into a kiss.

***

It was not until much later, tangled with John in their bed, lazily regarding the twin silver bands on their fingers, that he remembered to be completely disgusted with himself. He had gotten _married!_ There was a lovely reception to which he had (almost) willingly gone, with family and friends and champagne and stupid, stupid music and a  _cake_ _,_ for God's sake! He had danced! He actually  _didn't_ dance! Ever! And what was it all for, this nauseating display?  _Love?_  UGH.

Vulgar. Pedestrian. Trite. Repulsive. Gross-

John shifted against him then, sighed and huffed and snuggled closer to him in his sleep. It made the breath catch in his throat; he let it out as he kissed John's hair.

_Wonderful._


End file.
